


Snow

by Flakeblood



Series: Looming [3]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Hector is rescued, M/M, Poetry, Recovery, Small mentions of what he went through, learning to trust and love again, season 3 and post-season 3, strong focus on feelings, valentine's prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flakeblood/pseuds/Flakeblood
Summary: From Hector's capture, to his release, and then his recovery, the chill follows him. The only difference is who is there to hold him.
Relationships: Hector/Isaac Laforeze
Series: Looming [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172330
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Cuddling  
> For the Castlevania Creatives Discord, 2021 Valentine's Prompts.

Snow held nothing of its own. It was white, reflecting the bright sun in the day and the cool blue moon at night, and it became a soulless gray under the clouds which brought it. Hector was sick of it. He wasn’t made for the cold.

_Cold craggy rocks pointing forth,  
pierce through the grey sky;  
white flakes plummet through._

Every now and again, Hector would play with words in his mind. It had started out as a way to keep his own thoughts--dividing what _she_ said from what she really meant. Hector picked apart niceties because he wanted to remember just what she’d done. As if the ring hadn’t been enough.

But now… now it was a distraction, an idle thing he could do within the safety of his own mind. His forging wasn’t his, but his words were, and he was going to cling to that with everything he had.

_As poppies emerge in earthen thrones,  
Bells atone through stagnant air.  
He can walk among those smoothest stones,  
But he will not find me there._

Isaac bursting into Hector's room had been terrifying. He had feared for his life, from both the fierce look in his former lover’s eyes and the idea of what _she_ might do if she found them. But more than that, the most terrifying thing for Hector, had been the ember of hope within him.

Isaac could save him. Isaac could still love him. Isaac, if neither of those things, could free him, one way or another. Isaac, Isaac--each beat of Hector’s heart seeming to chant his name. He couldn’t help doing anything he said, waiting for a judgement. Hector held out his hands, he bit down his cries of pain, and he went wherever Isaac told him to, finger bleeding but free.

And all of a sudden, they were elsewhere. Not warm, but far more so than the horrible mountain fortress and the emptiness it had created inside Hector. So Hector, again, went where Isaac said, following his every direction. Hector wondered if his detainment under the Styrian sisters had made him unable to do anything else.

_Fox hid alone beneath rotted church,  
Until one day a dog squeezed inside.  
He offered a warmer place to perch  
If Fox promised to just go outside._

_Despite fear of hunters coming to search for his hide,  
Shining wet and red,  
Fox followed after, nervous with laughter,  
In hopes for a friend and a bed._

It was still cold. And it still snowed. Isaac said it was winter. Hector hadn’t known seasons there. Knowing them again was like experiencing them for the first time.

He could go out in the sun. An old woman sometimes came by to have meals with them or do chores with Isaac. She laughed rough and croaking like a toad, and groaned when she got up, joints popping, and her fingers were gnarled and skin wrinkled and sagging when she took Hector’s hands in hers, patting them as she told Hector rather loud secrets about Isaac, who was still in the room--Hector thought the average villager might have mistaken her for a witch. He loved her immediately.

The house was almost barren, swept clean in a hurry, like there had been previous occupants before Isaac had moved in. Judging by what little Hector had seen of the--presumably deserted--town, it was entirely possible.

Hector understood being alone, so he indulged the woman- Miranda, whenever she came by. Hector did not know how to be good company anymore, but he listened well, and Miranda loved to tell stories. And if that ended many days with everyone, even Isaac, gathered around a warm fire as simple tales wove themselves in the night, Hector couldn’t be more grateful.

_A witch with a laugh like a toad  
Offered shelter from frost-bitten road.  
She stirred up warm flames,  
And turned songs into games,  
So guests never noticed it snowed._

Touch was meant to be kind, Hector thought. He used touch to calm animals and to bring life where it had left. But so many times, it had instead been used to be cruel--to his animals, yes, but to himself also. Hector had left the Styrian castle with the knowledge that even soft touches, the ones meant to be calming and kind, could be cruel. Even moreso than ones meant only to obviously harm, he thought.

But Isaac, Isaac was somehow always an exception. He took everything and made it kind--made it loving. He had shown in Dracula’s castle that he could give Hector pain while loving him, because he loved him even, and every single touch would show how much he cared.

He had freed Hector from imprisonment in the mountains and his own mind. He showed Hector what it meant to love. And again, as Hector spent days, weeks, with Isaac, recovering, Isaac gave Hector everything he needed, guided him to ask for everything he wanted. Hector wanted to regain Isaac’s trust--he never wanted to be without him again.

Touch was a way he could do that; But he wanted it to be genuine. He couldn’t stand the words that sprang out from his darkest subconscious, whispering razor-laced sweet things which cut into him and made his heart bleed. He didn’t want that in his relationship with Isaac. So the first time, Hector let him take charge. He allowed his hair to be cut, he followed Isaac’s love, and his pain, and took that true, raw emotion from his love as a balm for his own heart.

It was easier after. Isaac’s eyes were brighter, his countenance more open. Even though Hector would still feel cold sometimes, Isaac would be beside him, leaning into him, wrapping around him. Even when the snow came, late into spring, Hector found he did not need to run inside. Isaac stayed with him, and with their bodies pressed together, they could watch it fall.

Hector held love in his arms, and he would never again let go.

_White hills over new spring grass,  
the chill leaves the air;  
bodies twined, hand within mine._

**Author's Note:**

> I was so cold this past week or so. It was terrible. I completely understand Hector's feelings now, about having the sun on your face. :') Also since the sun was the majority of the light I could get, aside from candles.  
> But hey, I did finally get this finished, so hooray! Glad I took my suffering and made it into this, I guess. ^^; That's how I used my little spurts of phone activity.
> 
> I want to thank Rose and Shojo on the discord for looking over the poems I was having trouble with, and extra extra thanks for helping me figure them out. Y'all are great! (๑ˊ͈ ॢꇴ ˋ͈)*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡॰ॱ
> 
> Glad to get something a little different on here, since I haven't put poetry into my fics before. I haven't done poetry in years either, so please be gentle about that. ( 〃．．) But all in all, I had fun with it.
> 
> Hope you liked it too, and I hope that nothing else will swoop in to slow down my progress on the final prompt I wanted to write this month. See you soon! ヾ(｡･ω･｡) And please throw stuff in the comments, I've missed the extra human interactions this week!


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